


Ribbon [cinta]

by CSIBradley



Category: Acacias 38 (TV)
Genre: Angst, Camino is top, F/F, Jealousy, Light Bondage, Maite is top, Pining, Ribbons, Teasing, lots of ribbons
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-12
Updated: 2020-03-20
Packaged: 2021-02-27 16:15:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22139920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CSIBradley/pseuds/CSIBradley
Summary: What if the ribbon tying them together wasn’t invisible at all?
Relationships: Maitino - Relationship
Comments: 29
Kudos: 99





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Anyone willing to translate?

“Ribbon?” The eldest seamstress asked.

“Yes,” Camino confirmed.

The older woman shuffled behind the counter and retrieved a large trunk. She brought it to the front, setting it down with a grunt.

“For a dress?” she inquired, opening the lid.

“No,” Camino answered, eyes gazing upon the variety of textures and widths. “for my hair,” she added absently.

“Your hair?” The elder laughed. “Oh Camino, you are beautifully eccentric.”

They shared a smile. Camino’s gaze returned to the ribbon.

“Black,” she requested, her fingers ghosting over each spool. “Merlot.” She closed her eyes, remembering the fondness of Maite’s face. “Brown.”

“White?” The woman suggested.

Camino looked at her and shrugged.

“I suppose so. And the deep purple.”

“But of course.”

“Two yards of each, please. Enough to play with the lengths.”

The seamstress nodded and gathered her order. Camino turned her attention to the dress in the display. Her mind wandered back to Maite.

 _“...we have to be tied with ribbon invisible to the world_.”

_“A ribbon like this?”_

Camino chewed on her lower lip, suppressing a smile.

“Here you are, dear,” the woman handed her a sack as Camino paid. “Let me know how it works for you.”

“Yes, thank you.”

Camino left, a smile still tugging at her lips.  
____

“Camino, you’re late,” her mother hissed as she passed the counter. Camino tied on her apron.

“My apologies, Mother,” Camino offered.

Felicia eyed her with suspicion. “Where were you?”

“The seamstress,” Camino answered cheerfully as she brushed past her mother.

Felicia stuttered, “Seam- seamstress?” Apprehensively she regarded her daughter. She blinked. “And what did you get there?“ She questioned harshly.

“Ribbon,“ Camino answered, smile on her lips as she cleared an empty table.  
  
“Ribbon?“ Felicia repeated doubtfully. “Just ribbon?“

“Yes, just ribbon,” her voice dangerously close to smugness.

“Please excuse me, Mother, there’s work to do.“  
Camino offered a very soft smile and bowed her head as she excused herself.

Felicia stood there pleased yet confused.  
“Very well,“ she offered to no one.

Throughout the rest of the day, Camino worked with a smile on her face, her plan coming together beautifully. Hopefully no one would question her choice of colors or how the wind would unceremoniously snatch away her accessories  
____

The following morning the clouds dissipated. The sun cast light in through the windows of Maite’s small studio. The artist absentmindedly tapped a paintbrush against her knee as she reminisced, intimacy fresh on her mind. With a heavy sigh she sat back and regarded the new piece of work in contemplation. Her foot tapped in time with her paintbrush. She was restless. And against her better judgment, she found herself dressed in her trousers and beret, sitting on the restaurant’s patio.

She took a breath, resting the newspaper she purchased on the table. She swallowed, fixed an errant strand of hair, and smoothed the napkin at her place setting.

“Good morning.”

Maite flinched, unaware of the young woman to her left. She looked up, a prepared morning greeting poised on her lips.

“Good m-” The deep red satin ribbon caught Maite’s eyes as Camino leaned forward and set down a fresh cup of coffee. Intently making eye contact, the waitress hovered in Maite’s personal space. The artist parted her lips.

“Is there anything else I can get you?” Camino offered, coming to stand.

“No, thank you,” Maite answered, flustered.

The young woman bowed her head and excused herself. She stole a glance over her shoulder as she disappeared through the front doors; Maite guilty of watching her.

“Maite!” Rosina gasped in surprise. Maite jumped.

“Oh, I did not mean to startle you.” Rosina took a seat at her table. The artist gave a polite smile and reached for her cup of coffee.

“Good morning, Rosina. How are you?” Maite took a sip of her coffee. It was perfect, she fought to keep her eyes open despite the bliss.

“Awake! And yourself? You have not left your studio in days. Busy working I presume.”

The woman nodded, placing her cup down. “Yes, especially with the gallery.”

“Oh, I simply cannot wait, but you mustn’t keep yourself locked away.”

  
She feigned a laugh, “Yes, it seems I have been rather absent from the neighborhood.”

“Never know if you’re coming or going,” Rosina added.

“So it is, the life of an artist,” Maite commented.

“Ah, yes, yes.” Rosina shifted to rest her elbows on the table. “And the news?”

“I have not had a chance to read from the paper.”

“No, no,” Rosina looked about before leaning forward to whisper, “of the suitor.”

“Ah…” Maite paused only a moment, “yes, I have heard.” She regretted allowing herself out of the studio.

“Good morning, Rosina, I thought I heard you,” Felicia greeted from the front door.

Maite’s back straightened.

  
“And Maite, lovely to have you out this morning,” condescension dripped from the greeting.

The woman merely nodded and took a sip from her coffee.

Rosina gave her a small smile as the mother slipped back inside.

“You will like him,” she offered to the artist. Maite’s eyebrows upturned. “I must be off, good day,” Rosina spoke.

“Good day.”  
____

Later in the evening, after a pull of liquor, Maite paced her studio, mumbling a scathing reprimand to herself...at herself. The painter’s robe gusted behind her with every pass, her current project forgotten. The feelings churring within her abdomen left an unsavory taste in her mouth.

“Can’t leave the city, can’t leave the apartment,” she pinched the bridge of her nose.

Three distinctive knocks tapped on the studio door.

Maite spun on her heel, eyes wide.

“Camino,” she gasped. Her body relaxed immediately as she regarded the woman leaning against the door. Young eyes twinkled with delight as an impish grin tugged at pert lips. The woman tisked, clicking her tongue against her teeth as she sauntered into the studio.

“Whatever is Maite to do?” the young woman patronized.

“How long have you been standing there?” Maite attempted to chide, her steps betraying her need for distance. She folded her arms across her body.

“Not long.” Camino swiped her finger along the edge of the table, taking an interest in the new work on the easel, purposely ignoring the artist’s stern stare. She turned her body towards the canvas. In a moment of weakness, Maite hungerly gazed upon the goddess in front of her.

“You can have it,” Camino offered, eyes still fixed on the painting.

“What?”

“My ribbon,” Camino glanced at the woman knowingly, the grin reappearing.

“I wore it all day,” she turned back to the painting. “For you.”

Maite swallowed. Her eyes fluttered, desire coursing.

“Take it,” Camino commanded softly, “I have a different one for bed.”

Maite trembled at the confession and her suggestive lilt. She watched in rapt wonderment as her fingers pinched the satin material and pulled the ribbon free. The long, chestnut tresses cascaded down the young woman’s body. Maite stepped closer still, her breath peppering Camino’s cheek. Maite strained, leaving her lips invitingly close to her lover’s.

“Good night, Maite,” Camino spoke, breath heated against the older woman’s lips before she pulled herself away. “See you,” she sighed with hooded eyes and then was gone.

Maite brought the satin ribbon to her lips, where she traced the softness against her. It smelled exactly of the spot she affectionately kissed atop Camino’s head. She gripped it tight with need, knuckles white with desire.


	2. Chapter 2

Another week passed. Maite’s supply of liquor was depleting. She could go on without it, but it was the cheese and bread in which she couldn’t. She sighed heavily, adjusting her beret as she glanced in the mirror.

“You go in, you go out,” she strategized. “And if you happen to catch her sight, you smile, say ‘good day’, and you march yourself right back to this apartment,” she emphasized, gesturing to the floor beneath her feet.

 _Where you are alone,_ her mind derisively reminded her.

Forcing a smile, she nodded at herself in the mirror. “As it should.” 

She grabbed her wallet and began the short walk to the shop.

Maite’s swift confident steps were hindered with trepidation as she rounded the corner. A growl of her stomach urged her onward. 

“Cheese and bread,” she recited to herself. “And perhaps more paint.”

 _If you simply cannot wait, there is sustenance across the street,_ the silent voice tempted. 

“Yes,” she agreed under her breath, her gate now a leisurely stroll to the common onlooker.

_With a beautiful view._

Fate presented her young, beautiful lover through the threshold of the restaurant’s doors. The early morning light bathed the woman in a soft glow, illuminating her white lace dress and accentuating the subtle blush on her cheeks. Her typical pinned updo traded for a long, elegant braid, artfully woven and tied with a dark plum ribbon. Maite watched, unnoticed, as a painting danced to life in front of her. 

“Yes, stunning,” she agreed breathlessly with herself. 

Camino turned and caught Maite’s gaze. Her eyes gleamed as she fought a broad smile. Maite offered a small wave, minute and uncoordinated. Camino dipped her chin in acknowledgement and gave a subtle toss of her braid, smirking as she turned back into the building. 

_Yes, coffee sounds nice._

Maite shook her head, breaking the trance. 

“Cheese and bread,” she recited adamantly, “cheese and bread.”


	3. Chapter 3

The subtle rasp of charcoal against the page would entice sleep, Maite hoped. Long, sloping lines and short staccato etchings created a unique lullabye for this particular night, where sapphic thoughts and pining impulsives came one right after another. Stroke after stroke, she continued, praying the figure drawn before her, lounging and wrapped in her sheets, would come to fruition. She was nearly delirious with need as she continued her sketch despite the extinguished candle. Feverishly she worked, lost in her own world, until a soft licking sensation ran along her wrist. She flinched, recoiling her left hand only to find a bright red ribbon now tied around her. The moonlight swept through the curtains, illuminating a figure as she advanced upon Maite.

“Camino,” she gasped with delightful confusion. “It’s the middle of the night, what are you doing here?”

Camino remained silent and pulled the ribbon, orchestrating Maite’s movement. She could see the smirk on Camino’s face as she led her from the stool.

“Come,” Camino commanded. Maite trembled as she was led to her bed. She sat, observing her lover with labored breath. 

Hair cascading down her body, Camino wore only a slip. “Give me your hand,” she spoke. 

Maite presented her right hand and the ribbon came to tie her hands together. She bit her lip, enthralled. 

“Lie down.”

Maite did and Camino immediately pulled her hands over her head. She pressed them into the bed and stared at her hungrily. 

“Camino,” Maite gasped. Heart pounding in her throat and blood rushing in her ears, she closed her eyes, awaiting the lavishing kiss upon her neck.

A clap of thunder rattled the windows above her headboard. Maite gasped and blinked. She ran her hands on the other side of her bed only to find herself alone, twisted in her sheets with Camino’s purple ribbon wrapped around her wrist. She groaned and cursed the night.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mature

* * *

Maite grinned dotingly as she added the tea to the steaming water. She stole a few glances across the room to the young brunette woman sitting at the table.

"How much longer until the gallery opens?" Camino asked over her shoulder.

"Another week," Maite answered, picking up the tray and bringing it to the table between their chairs. "Why?"

The young brunette tucked her chin and shrugged shyly. "I guess I am anxious for you...for your paintings," she made deliberate eye contact, "my painting."

Hazel irises reflected a seductive mirth. Maite unknowingly bit her lip as she reached for the kettle and began pouring their tea.

"Patience, my dear," she took a deep breath, "patience."

"I hate waiting," Camino pouted, her posture slumping.

The artist returned the look. "Yes, I'm aware," her tone dripping suggestively. "Now, drink your tea," Maite spoke over her porcelain cup and blew against the steam.

Camino sighed heavily, rolling her eyes. She retrieved the cup and brought it to her lips.

"I've been waiting quite awhile, actually," Camino shared privately with her teacup.

A pristine eyebrow arched. "I beg your pardon," a statement, not a question from Maite.

The young artist remained silent as she finished her sip and brought the cup to sit in her lap. She brought her finger to the rim and slowly began tracing the subtle curvature of the porcelain. It was a soft back and forth swipe of her finger until she circled the cup fully in one direction and then repeated the pattern again. She looked up from her cup to find Maite completely mesmerized by her hand. She smirked artfully as the tension grew palpable and the tint of rouge rose on Maite's cheeks.

Taking her index finger off the rim, she dipped into her beverage. Extracting it, Camino allowed the tea to drip from her finger. Pausing, she turned her gaze to Maite and brought her finger to her lower lip. Maite’s eyes were still fixated on her svelte finger. Camino traced it along her lip, letting the liquid pool on her skin, where it glistened. Maite’s lips parted as desire swept across her features. Camino dipped her finger in again; this time, she brought it to her mouth, where she captured her finger between her lips before pulling it free with a soft smack.

“You know,” Camino spoke.

Maite snapped from her trance, both surprised and slightly embarrassed.

“It’s rude to stare,” she playfully chided before taking another sip of her tea. 

“Stop playing with your food,” Maite reproved.

“Why? I have nothing else to play with,” Camino replied with a pout, eyes dark and challenging.

“Camino,” Maite rasped and paused. Her dream flooded her senses, gooseflesh prickling on her skin as she recalled the ghosting of ribbon tangled on her wrist. 

“You are not the only one who has been waiting.”

Camino smiled coyly. She reached beneath the layers of her skirt and began unlacing her boots.

“My feet ache,” she explained as she pulled the leather item from her person. 

“And?” Maite implored. She sipped her tea as though the current actions of her beloved were ineffective. The blush of her cheeks betrayed her.

“Though I pursue the profession of an artist,” she removed the other boot, “I refuse to suffer like one.” Camino wiggled her toes, pointed and flexed her foot.

“You insinuate as though I suffer.”

“Do you not?” Camino asked, presenting her bare foot to her lover. 

“Yes.” Maite rolled her eyes and set down her teacup. “And I am not as uncouth about it.” 

She placed the foot in her lap and began kneading Camino’s arch. Camino hummed in delight and lulled her head back. She sank lower in her chair.

“Spoiled girl,” Maite teased as she eagerly touched her. 

“Deprived lover,” Camino retorted as her other foot pressed along Maite’s thigh.

“Temptress.” Her hands caressed higher up Camino’s leg.

“Mistress.”

“My lov-“ Maite’s fingers caught along a soft patch of fabric on Camino’s thigh. 

“What is this?” She asked as she caressed Camino’s thigh beneath her skirt.

“A surprise,” Camino answered.

Swallowing, Maite slowly pushed up the skirt to expose Camino’s bare leg. There, she discovered the white ribbon wound around her thigh. Tenderly, she ran her hands across the material.

“I’ve been waiting for you to find these,” Camino praised softly from her chair, legs parted and welcoming. Maite played with the small bow the ends created.

“These?”

“Mmhm.” Camino nodded. She pressed her chest out, beseeching to be released from the confines of her clothing. 

Maite rose from her chair and sank to her knees in front of Camino. The young woman bit her lip as she allowed Maite into her space. The artist pressed a kiss to Camino’s ankle before locking eyes.

“The choice of white,” Maite planted another kiss on Camino’s calf, “tell me.” She kissed the inside of her knee.

Camino smiled. “White was not my choice.”

Maite rested her head against the inside of her knee, listening.

Camino continued. “My choice is placement,” she cupped Maite’s cheek, “for it is where I hold you.”

Maite swallowed, moved by her words. 

“Both wantonly,” Camino added, “and in my heart.”

Camino removed her hand from Maite’s face and placed it over hers. She took a breath and looked down. She swallowed and brought both of her hands to the fasteners of her bodice. Slowly, she unclasped her garment and returned her gaze to Maite, who watched on baited breath.

“Look,” Camino said, reaching for Maite’s hands and bringing them to the edges of her clothing.

Maite’s eyes sparkled with wonderment as she gazed upon her, for not only was her lover a tangible masterpiece, art flowed freely and passionately from her spirit, her breath, and all that she was. 

With mouth dry and fingers trembling, Maite peeled away Camino’s bodice to find more white ribbon wrapped around Camino’s torso, covering her breasts. Camino took a deep breath; she could feel her lover’s gaze. With great reverence, Maite brought her finger tips to trace right over Camino’s heart.

“Wonderful,” she praised as she felt the strong pulse beneath.   
“With every breath,” Camino spoke, returning her hand to Maite’s cheek, “I feel you.”

“Camino,” Maite whispered as a single tear rolled down her cheek. 

“I love you, Maite,” Camino praised.

“And I you, Camino,” Maite rasped as she quickly brought herself to Camino’s lips. Passionately moved, she conveyed her emotions earnestly, deepening their kiss.

Camino’s hands wove into her hair, pulling her closer as they shared their kiss fervidly. She sought entrance into Maite’s mouth to match the artist’s intensity. Maite moaned, and with hands pressed under fabric, took purchase of Camino’s hips. She pulled the woman hungrily towards her and spread her fingers wide, caressing the flesh that occupied her dreams.

“Stop torturing yourself,” Camino gasped between kisses, “and touch me.”

Blindly, Maite traversed her hand from hip to the apex of Camino’s legs. She cupped her in one swift motion causing Camino to gasp and her body to jerk in surprise. Camino smiled into their broken kiss and pressed back into Maite’s hand.

“Yes,” she hissed, breath hot against Maite.

Maite took a moment, committing everything to memory. The soft puffs of warm air, flavored with the fading scent of their afternoon tea, the fullness of her own body resting against her love, the warmth and arousal against the palm of her hand, the lingering taste of Camino on her tongue. 

“My God,” Maite praised, overwhelmed to stillness.

“I’ve dreamt of you,” Maite confessed. She searched Camino’s face. “Even when I’m awake, I dream of you.” They kissed again. “But when you came to me in my sleep,” Maite pressed against Camino’s core. Camino gasped and her features flushed. 

“You were carnal.”

“Yes,” Camino hissed.

“You came in the night, swift and fearless.” Maite kissed the smooth stretch of flesh on Camino’s neck. Her free hand moved to untie the ribbon around her torso. 

“You tied your ribbon around my wrist and you led me to bed.”

“Show me,” Camino begged.

“What?”

“Show. Me.” Camino demanded in a labored whisper. 

Maite’s eyes glimmered with wild anticipation. Removing her hand from between Camino’s legs, she pulled the end of the ribbon and coaxed Camino forward, allowing the material to unravel against soft, supple flesh. Camino’s nipples hardened as the satin danced across her. Maite’s gaze never left Camino’s. When the last of the ribbon slipped from Camino’s body, Maite balled it in her fist. Her apprehension resolved, weeks— even years of restraint, melted away. Her hands made quick work of untangling the ribbon before she wound it around Camino’s left wrist.

Without saying a word, Maite rose to her feet and pulled the ribbon. Camino came to stand, pulse rushing in her ears at their new dynamic. The artist began to walk, pulling Camino along with her, bodice open and feet bare. Camino’s mouth ran dry with need.

They crossed the threshold to Maite’s bedroom. The sheer hunger in her eyes caused Camino to shiver. The woman stilled Camino and slipped the bodice from her frame, releasing the ribbon to attend to her skirt, which fell to the floor moments later. Maite gently guided her a few paces to her bed before grabbing ahold of the ribbon again. Still silent, she brought Camino’s wrists together and wrapped the satin around them both. Camino gasped in pleasure, the material softly rubbing against her skin. 

“Lay down.”

Camino reclined. “I did this?” she asked astonished. 

“Yes,” Maite answered coming to straddle her. Slowly, she brought Camino’s hands above her head and held them there.

“How exciting,” Camino shared, pressing her legs together. “Then what?”

Maite lowered herself, their breasts pressing against each other. 

“I awoke,” Maite whispered in her ear.

Camino groaned in frustration.

“How terribly unfulfilling,” she teased.

“And all I could think about was you,” Maite continued, planting a kiss on Camino’s neck.

Moaning, the woman beneath her arched. Her muscles strained against the restraint as she yearned to pull her lover closer. Camino gasped, the full sensation taking effect as she writhed beneath the woman straddling her.

“Maite,” she moaned, rolling her hips out of need. 

Reaching down, Maite slipped her hand between Camino’s legs, seeking her warmth. 

“Yes,” Camino hissed. “I have missed this,” she sighed and rocked against Maite. “I have needed you,” she proclaimed.

Maite kissed her firmly and entered her. The woman gasped in delight and then moaned.

“I desire you more, moment by moment,” Maite declared. She began a steady rhythm, pressing fully into her lover. They shared another kiss before Camino gasped, unable to continue. 

“My God, Maite,” Camino praised, “Yes!”

Maite hovered over her partner as she continued to pleasure her, her own arousal growing. She watched through hooded eyes as her lover’s features flushed, chest rising and falling. In awe, Maite released the ribbon and cupped Camino’s head, bringing their lips together in a searing kiss as she coaxed euphoria from her. 

“Maite,” Camino gasped and grabbed Maite’s back, balling her blouse in her hands. Her nails scraped along the older woman’s skin pleasantly, causing her to groan. Camino began to quiver, a telling sign.

“That’s it, my girl,” Maite encouraged. 

Mouth opened, back bowed, Camino cried out in release, her core pulsing. She kept her arms tightly around Maite as she rode out the waves of pleasure.

“I love you with all my breath, Camino.”

The woman panted in bliss as her body slowly descended from its high. She licked her lips before pulling Maite back in for another bout of kissing. Camino shifted her attention to the small buttons of Maite’s floral blouse. When she reached the last one, she grabbed at the white ribbon still tied around her thigh. With a mischievous grin, Camino rolled them and grabbed Maite’s wrist in the process.

“My turn,” she whispered into the clad woman’s ear and Maite moaned.


	5. Chapter 5

Camino bit Maite's neck and grinned at the sound leaving her throat. 

"You are my hymnal," Camino praised, "and to worship you once a week would never be enough." She kissed Maite's open mouth and took purchase of her bottom lip. The woman beneath her greedily reciprocated, using her free hand to tangle into Camino's hair. Pulling away, Camino gazed upon her with a renewed fire. The tresses of chestnut unfurled from the confines of the hair pins and cascaded over her features, where wisps tickled Maite's cheeks.

"I crave you," Camino stated, her gaze primitively as she guided her lover’s second wrists over her head to the other. 

The soft satin wound around her wrist and Maite responded by lifting her head and slowly licking along Camino's extended arm. A shiver ran through the young woman's body followed by goosebumps prickling over her skin. Maite smirked; the role of dominance passed easily, and frustratingly, between them. 

Without moving her gaze, Camino sought Maite's belt. Nimble fingers tugged and the brass metal delicately clanged open. Brushing it to the side, Camino found the zipper placed on the hip.

"How fashionable," Camino offered as she unzipped the brown pants. 

Maite swallowed, her mouth dry.

"Lift," Camino commanded, her hand plunging underneath the fabric of the pants to curve of Maite's backside; skin warm under her touch.

Maite bent her knees and brought her feet to the bed. Biting her lip, she arched, bridging her hips from the mattress with a smoldering gaze. Their energy danced about the room; both maintaining some form of reverence while desire burned coarsely through their veins.

Camino pulled the lower garments from her and tossed them to the floor, ribbon forgotten. She took a moment, basking in the sight before her. A new masterpiece cemented in her mind. Maite under her control, hands still tied over her head, blouse splayed opened exposing her French brasserie, lower body bare and inviting. 

"I can tell you're speechless," Maite quipped.

Camino nodded silently. 

"I know your lips are talented, like your fingers," she praised coquettishly. “No need for words.”

Camino returned to hover over Maite’s wanton body. She vacillated where to place her hands; each tantalizing thought came one after another, distractingly ceasing her movements.

“No need to be gentle now, my girl,” Maite encouraged as she slipped her tied wrists behind her lover’s neck. With a tug, she pulled Camino down for another kiss. Messily, it was returned until Camino’s hands resurrected their journey to Maite’s core, where heat was emanating. Camino felt along the mattress as she splayed her fingers open, barely grazing the underside of the woman’s thighs. Maite groaned in anticipation and tried to ground herself onto Camino. The young woman pulled back, tisking in a mocking fashion, Maite’s arms still behind her neck.

Camino gazed upon Maite’s face as she guided Maite’s wrists back over her head. “Allow me.” The young woman placed a kiss on the inside of Maite’s arm as she softly traced her fingers over the ribbon on her wrist. They shared a moment, looking into each other’s eyes.

Softly, caressing the smooth expansion of flesh, Camino dragged the tips of her fingers from the inside of Maite’s right thigh to the crease of her hip bone. 

Maite panted and watched as Camino’s attention shifted to her ministrations. 

Camino traced her finger over skin in an abstract pattern, swirling about plane’s of flesh as though she were blending the hues of the sunrise.

“Are you painting me?” Maite asked, grinning as her skin reacted to her lover’s gentle touch. 

“On you,” Camino corrected, still concentrating on the intangible imagery.

“A Vuillard?” Maite implored.

“No, a Pasamar,” Camino grinned.

“A one of a kind,” Maite praised. She giggled and added, “And what has captured your attention away from this moment?” Maite stretched like a cat, coaxing her lover’s attention back. 

Camino finished another long stroke of her finger before she inhaled deeply and signed her name near the older woman’s apex.

“Our future journey,” Camino stated boldly, stroking her finger over Maite’s swollen flesh.

Gasping in awe and arousal, Maite’s voice hitched and fingers entered her. She moaned in delight as Camino wasted no time creating a strong rhythm; her body arching and her feet coming to press firmly into the bed. Unconsciously, she strained against the restraint on her wrists.

“Yes,” Maite hissed. “More.”

Camino bit her lip and added her third finger to Maite’s core, moaning as heat and warmth enveloped her hand. Desires continued, relentless and ravenously, as Maite matched her motions, eagerly meeting each thrust with a resounding roll of her hips. Their intimate sounds encouraging Camino to keep pace, savoring each moan and mewl that rang from her lover. The dull ache in her forearm grew, however, and she had to reluctantly change her positioning. 

Now, fully cupping Maite, she began focusing on movement of her fingers. Rubbing her palm against Maite, Camino began curling her fingers in a way Maite had, their first time together.

“Yes,” Maite hissed, “there.” She moaned, her body succumbing to the sensations. Her back arched and her mouth fell open, cheeks burning with arousal, as Camino pressed deeper into her.

The tightness in her abdomen curled uncharacteristically tight and for a moment Maite existed in the abyss, breathless, waiting for the inevitable release her body so desperately craved. But all that continued were the maddening strokes and touches of Camino until the unexpected bite and forceful suckled upon her neck broke the tension and her body spasmed in wave after glorious wave. Her body shook and she her moans came in silent screams- she would later claim were heard in a higher dimension. She quivered and panted as the blackness faded from her vision and Camino came into focus, the ribbon unwinding from her wrists.

“Camino,” she sighed astonished, breathless and limp.

“Yes?” The joy and self-satisfactory evident in her smile. She tossed away the ribbon and pulled the covers over them.

Camino removed Maite’s brassiere, gently drawing it from Maite’s torso. She winced at the dull ache deep within her muscles then smiled. Camino draped herself over her smaller frame and pressed her body snuggly to her lover’s.

With heavy eyelids, Maite fought to keep them open, until she allowed herself, once more, into her lover’s arms.

“Rest.”

And they both did. 


	6. Chapter 6

Camino awoke with weight upon her body. She blinked in the darkness, confused, surrounded by familiarity, yet in a room that wasn’t her own. Maite, in her slumber, pulled the woman closer, her leg draped over her hips and face pressed to her bosom. Camino’s confusion settled as she gazed upon the sleeping woman. Loose, wavy strands of hair tickled her fingertips as she tucked them behind her lover’s ear. She embraced Maite and allowed herself to be suspended in time; her original angst gone as she inhaled the unique scent of her love. 

The dynamic was not lost on the young woman as she rested her head upon her shoulder and swept her gaze over Maite’s slumbering face and prominent features. For Maite’s strong-hold stubbornness to finally melt away and allow vulnerability and honesty to come through caused a glowing ache in Camino’s heart. What she would give in order to hand Maite the world, she pondered.

Stretching, Camino allowed a few more moments in her solace, nestling back into her lover-- body satiated-- until her eyes caught sight of the small pocket watch atop the bedside table. 

“My God,” Camino shot up, sheets slipping from her frame. 

Maite stirred from her sleep, lethargically drifting between dream and reality. 

“No,” she groggily commented, tightening her grasp around Camino.

“Maite,” Camino sounded panicked. Eyes opened and coherency set in. 

“The time,” Camino drew back the covers and slid from the artist’s lush bedding. “My mother may come looking for me.”

“Mi hija,” Maite soothed, removing herself from the bed. “It’s fine,” she cooed, still blissful from their lovemaking. She reached for her own clothing strewn about the room as Camino hastefully went about dressing. As Camino buttoned her dress, she dangled her loose hair in front of Maite, silently asking for help. 

Maite smiled, blouse half-buttoned, and carefully repinned the long chestnut locks. She placed the last pin, allowing herself a strong inhale before planting a chaste kiss to the smooth neck. Despite their frantic quest to dress, both stopped to savor the moment, eyes closed.

“Come,” Maite instructed and guided the protege back to the studio. She finished the last of her buttons and picked up the palate. Pressing her finger into the semi-dried paint, Maite brought the cool liquid to Camino and smudged a touch along her temple. The cool, viscid texture felt foreign compared to the warm touch reserved for their interactions. Maite pursed her lips and blew upon the paint to dry the offending mark, then offhandedly wiped a portion away.

“A hard day’s work,” Maite admired with a smirk as Camino blushed and grabbed Maite’s blouse, pulling her closer. Maite gasped and attempted to playfully chide her but her words died in her throat as Camino kissed her fully.

“We must call Cesáreo,” she said, batting her lover’s hand away from her blouse as she slipped on her painter’s robe. 

The time was close to half past 21hr, well past the hour a young woman should be unaccompanied among the streets.

Camino followed, leaning forward to place a random kiss on Maite’s neck, where she momentarily gave in before pushing her gently away.

“Camino,” she scolded, “this could very well be our last lesson,” she spoke with heavy sadness. Pulling herself from their space, Maite drifted to the door. She gave a sharp whistle and waited.

“Let her be mad,” Camino cheekishly whispered as she slipped her arms into her petticoat. 

“Mad, I am not worried about,” Maite shot her a stern glance, fixing her own hair.

Heavy footsteps echoed from around the corner. 

Camino planted one last kiss to Maite’s lip; thrillingly so, as they could have been caught at any moment. 

“Hasta manana,” Camino whispered giddily as she adjusted her hat.

Cesáreo turned the corner and held up his staff.

“Senor Cesáreor,” Maite praised.

“Senorita Zaldua?” he questioned.

“We need your assistance,” the painter spoke.

“We?”

Camino stepped out of the doorway, head lightly hung in guilt.

“I’m afraid,” Maite cleared her throat and crossed her arms, “we both allowed paint to tell us time.”

“Ah,” Cesáreo commented. “Not surprising.”

Maite wrapped her arms tighter around herself, the evening air biting at her still heated flesh.

“Would you please see that Senorita Camino arrives home safely and that Senora Felcia is informed this shall never happen again.”

“Si, si, of course,” Cesáreo responded. “Luckily it is not too late; though the sun does like to fool us.”

“Yes, yes,” Maite added. She glanced at Camino.

“Hasta manana,” she added with a soft smile.

“Gracias,” Camino responded as she stepped past the woman.

Turning her attention to the watchman, Maite gave a swift nod.

“Thank you, Cesáreo.”

“My pleasure,” he said as he tipped his hat.

Maite watched as the two walked down the street, listening to their dissipating footsteps as they continued around the corner. A smile grew on her lips as she allowed herself to chuckle. She stepped back inside and went about cleaning up the studio. 

Ghosting touches and haunting scents reverberated off of walls and filled her senses as she moved about the space. She stopped, catching sight of one of the white ribbons Camino had been wearing, the one with indentation of knots and fists holding tightly. The item placed perfectly alongside the white, silk painting robe. Her own words echoed in her mind. Unconsciously, she reached out and grasped the totem, fingering it in her hand as she allowed the softness to gloss over her fingertips. It drew her closer; her body intrinsically reacting to truth as she brought it to her lips and nose. With a reverent inhalation, the aroma that was Camino filled her body and Maite’s heart ached. If only she could have awoken to this scent with the sun shining through the window and her love, gracefully nude and angelic. 

Gasping at the vividness of her vision, Maite immediately began stretching, hoping to immortalize her own Sistine Chapel.


End file.
